GIFT   OF 


By 

Qfjloe  Qtattlt  ©pington 


Published  by 

A.  C.  VROMAN,  Inc. 

Pasadena,  California 


I 


Dreamer  of  Dreams,  in  the  shadow-times, 
When  tall  trees  whisper  hand  in  hand. 
And  swift  waves  kiss  the  moon-gfold  sand. 
And  hearts  ring  sweet,  sad  vesper-chimes, — 
Giver  of  Gifts,  if  you  understand 

How  the  hour  haunts,  though  years  have  sped 
Since  together  we  loved,  together  read, — 
Dearest  of  Dear  Ones,  read  my  rhymes! 


4L5008 


I  cannot  pray  with  thee,  thou  dauntless  one 

Who  passeth  on  with   sadly   steadfast  eyes; 

I  cannot  sound  thy  depths  of  agonies, 
Nor  dream  thy  dream  of  peace  when  life  is  done, 
Since  death  to  thee  is  but  a  victory  won 

Before  the  opening  gates  of  Paradise. 

For  thee  it  is  the  flesh  alone  that  dies, 
And  in  the  spirit  new  life  is  begun. 

For  me  the  darkness  holds  no  gleam  of  light 
Beyond   the   narrow  circle   of  today. 

Eternal  cruelty,  heedless,  infinite, 

Seems  more  the  master  of  man's  blinded  way. 

But  still  I  know  not,  for  man's  little  mind 
Gropes  in  the  darkness,  blind  and  more  than  blind. 


tfje 


Hand  in  hand,  a  whispering  band, 
The  waves  creep  out  from  the  cliff-clad  land, 
Swift  to  lift  at  the  light  wind's  shift 
Where  the  blue-green  tide  shows  a  green-blue  rift, 
And  the  long  rock-shadowed  seaweeds  drift, 
Purple  and  rose  and  emerald  green, 
Flowing  soft  in  a  sun-flecked  sheen. 

Orange  and  gold  and  silver-cold 
Dream  nsh  gleam  in  the  shallow's  hold. 
Brown  and  bright  and  sunshine-white 
The  sands  lie  bare  at  the  water's  flight 
Clean  to  the  kiss  of  the  wind's  delight. 
Purple  and  cool  each  rock-bound  pool 
Mirrors  the  sky's  calm  over-rule, 

While  far  at  sea,  where  the  tides  run  free 
A  sail  drives,  frail  at  the  wind's  decree. 
Violet  and  gray,  across  the  bay 
The  fog  mists  shimmer  and  fade  away 
Where  the  long  sea-surges  shoreward  stray, 
And  burdened  waves  like  singing  slaves 
Drop  their  gifts  in  the  long  sea  caves, 
Proud  to  press  with  a  swift  caress 
To  the  cliff's  clean-bosomed  tenderness. 

Earth  and  air,  so  wonderous  fair, 
God-given  beauty,  past  compare,— 

Sea-of-my-Soul,  what  of  discord  there  ? 


Qlacfe  (QQoobs 

Skies  never  bluer 

Waiting  the  cloud, 
Hearts  never  truer 

Waiting  the  shroud ! 

Light  that  runs  singingly 

Over  the  sea, 
Hands  that   part  clingingly, 

Loath  to  go  free. 

Dreaming  the  same  old  dreams, 

Children  unborn, 
Seeking   the   hidden   streams, 

Children  of  morn. 

Passion  of  purity, 

Still  undenled; 
Then  brave  security 

Being  with  child. 

Deep  in  the  darkness 

Is  one  to  pray? 
Seeing  death's  starkness 

Longs  one  to  slay? 


Fair  ruined  being, — 

(Nothing  to  me, 
Simply  the  seeing 

Murder  go  free !) 

Learning  the  ways  of  men, 

Lover  of  Art ! 
Burning  the  fluent  pen, 

Word-weary  Heart ! 

Braving  in  sorrow- 
Life's  long  lamenting, 

Then  on  the  morrow 
Conquered,   repenting ! 

Watching  the  sun  go  down 

Over  Life's  waste, 
Playing  the  priest  or  clown 

Ever  in  haste. 

Weep  with  the  weepers 
Self-conscious  tears. 

Reap  with  the  reapers 
Sorrowful  years ! 


The  storm  of  tears  Has  passed  us  by. 

Griefs  tempest  stilled,  wKat  yet  remains? 
Our  own  decision  cast  the  die, — 

We  stand  alone  yet  Death     refrains, 
And  thus  we  question  dully,  "Why?" 

Nor  seek  to  cleanse  life's  battle-stains: 
Then  comes  the  whisper  of  reply, — 

"Eternity,  Eternity !" 


The  inspiration  of  the  Dawn's  rebirth, 

The  budding  beauty  of  young,  springtime  trees. 
The  perfume  of  the  ramsoaked,  pregnant  earth, 

And  secrets  whispered  by  the  telltale  breeze, — 
The  glory  of  success  when  noon  is  high, 

And  knowledge  from  defeat,  which  bitter  seems. 
The  flight  of  thoughts  across  the  evening  sky 

Into  the  sunset's  haziness  of  dreams :— - 

These  are  the  gifts  most  precious  in  my  sight 
To  be  remembered  through  the  haunted  night. 


C)fje  Gaming  of  tfje  gag 

"Tis  sunset  time,  and  song-time  in  my  Heart. 

A  shower  of  careless  bird-song  tinkles  down 

The  little  wind  that  leaps  among  the  trees 

And  ruffles  up  my  hair,  and  leaves  its  kiss 

Sweet  on  my  lips,  and  laughing  goes  its  way. 

The  high  brave  hills  above  the  singing  sea 

Put  on  a  purple  all  aethereal 

Woven  from  drifting  mists  and  dead  day-dreams. 

Above,  a  star,  a  point  of  blazing  gold, 

Stabs  through  the  sunset  with  exquisit  pain 

Of  kinship  with  the  suffering  of  man, 

While  to  the  East,  the  night's  blue  tenderness 

Shimmers  into  a  radient  ecstacy 

Touched  by  the  golden  nre  of  the  moon. 

Now  comes  the  sea-fog,  cold  and  white  and  swift, 

To  smother  close  the  color-song  of  things 

Into  a  leaden  silence,  while  the  wind 

Wanders  afar,  afraid  and  shivering 

Because  the  beauty  of  the  night  is  dead. — • 

So  is  the  song  within  my  tired  heart. 


Qomrabe  (jQine 

(To  C.  W.) 

These  things  I  ask  at  the  hands  of  Fate, 

Comrade  Mine. 
Then  I  am  willing  to  live  and  wait, 

Proud,  with  the  praises  of  the  crowd 

Taken  simply  with  head  unbowed, 
For  they  enter  not  at  the  outer  gate. 

But  your  place  is  here  with  warmth  and  cheer. 

For  to  me  youVe  dear, — Nay,  more  than  dear, 
And  your  praise  brings  glad  heart-holidays, 

Comrade  Mine : 

To  catch  the  dear,  wild  grace  of  you  from  the  wind  as 
it  sings  in  its  flight, 

To  see  the  dear  child-face  of  you  in     the     wee     wild- 
flowers,  gold  and  blue, 

To  nnd  in  the  crushed  ferns  trace  of  you,  where  your 
naked  feet  ran  light: 

To  know  that  the  star-shine  on  the  sea  is  but  a  mes- 
sage from  you  to  me,-— 
A  friendly  song. 
The  waves  along. 

To  gladen  the  lonely  night. 


You  of  tKe  tawny  tangled  Hair,  yovi  of  tKe  wind's  de- 

ligKt, 

Say,  are  you  gay  on  your  wandering  way, 
And  is  tkere  joy  in  tKe  break  of  day. 
And  the  falling  of  tKe  nigKt? 

Tell  me  tKe  tales  of  your  new-found  trails, — 
TKe  songs  you  sing  as  tKe  twiligKt  fails. 
And  tKe  campnre  flames  dance  brigKt. 
Say,  does  tKe  lure  still  endure? 

Are  you  glad  or  sad  little  comrade  of  tKe  days  wKen 
our  ways  were  sure? 

Well,  play  your  part  witK  a  joyous  Keart, 

Brave  little  slave  to  tKe  love  of  art: 

Sing  your  song  tKougK  tKe  way  seem  long, 

For  you're  strong,  Dear  Girl,  as  tKe  winds  are  strong. 

And  youVe  Kale  on  tKe  trail  wKere  tKe  great  belong. 

Follower  of  tKe  ligKt ! 


£Jear'$  ©nbtng 

Another  year  has  slipped  away  from  me,— 
A  year  of  rose  and  gold  that  might  not  stay 
But  passed  into  the  dusk  of  yesterday. 

So  is  it  when  across  a  sunset  sea 

Plows  forth  a  treasure-laden  argosy 

Bound  for  a  port  full  half  the  world  away, 
And  fades  into  the  fog  at  close  of  day, 

Leaving  the  great  waves  desolate,  but  free. 

Thus  had  this  last  year  many  gifts  to  bring 
To  me  who  watched  it  pass  the  horizon  bars, 

But  still  I  smile  for  there  are  songs  to  sing. 
And  only  painful  are  lamented  scars. 

So  sure  am  I  of  this  one  vital  thing 

I  challenge  in  my  strength  the  wheeling  stars ! 


Qftanberer 


My  soul  darts  forth  on  wings  of 

Up  to  the  sky, 
To  race  the  stars  with  swifter  flight 

And  pass  them  by. 

Into  eternities  of  space,  — 

Unbounded,   free  ! 
It  conquers  time  in  headlong  race 

Of  ecstacy. 

Into  the  void  unblessed  by  light 

By  God's  breath  blown, 
Where  all  must  perish  in  the  night 

Save  love  alone. 

And  then,  when  Dawn  o'er  land  and  sea 

Begins  to  smile, 
My  soul  comes  back  to  dwell  with  me 

A  little  while. 


El  ®ong  of 

What  more  are  songs,  that  lure  and  fret  and  tease 
Than  music1  s  heart-break,  drifting  down  the  breeze? 

What  more  are  songs,  flung  out  the  heart  to  ease, 
Than  purple  pulses  of  star-smothered  seas? 

What  more  are  songs, — nay,  are  they  more  than  these 
Swift,  shifting  shadows,  'neath  the  wind-tossed  trees? 


Kittle  ©irb 

Dear  little  bird,  in  the  tree-top  high, 

Is  your  heart  on  nre  with  love  and  pain, 
That  there  in  the  sweep  of  April  rain 

You  voice  my  grief  in  your  wild,  sweet  cry? 

Dear  little  bird,  can  you  tell  me  why 

With  tortured  joy  your  love-song  thrills 
Through  the  driving  rain  that  beats  and  chills 

Under  the  leaden,  wind-torn  sky? 

Dear  little  bird  in  the  tree-top  high, 
Brave  little  bird,  can  you  tell  me  why? 


^ om  tfje 

Below  the  roofs  great  height 
The  lonely  city  night 

Glows  with  the  fallen  stars  of  man's  desire 
Above  the  smoke  drifts  by 
And  trails  along  the  sky, 

Dead  incense  from  an  ancient  altar  nre. 

The  wheels  of  life  spin  fast, 
The  night  will  soon  be  past, 

Another  day  will  bring  new  toil  and  grime, 
But  as  the  years  spin  round 
A  second  faith  is  found, 

And  stronger  courage  welcomes  light-foot  time. 

Then  read  its  heart  aright, 
O,  you  of  blinded  sight, 

Who  in  the  city  strive  for  greater  gain, — 
As  lofty  towers  rise 
Searching  the  farther  skies, 

Read  deep  the  message,  Courage  out  of  Pain! 


Qnber  tlje  jgjoutftern 


The  fierce  white  fire  of  the  day 
Has  burned  away  all  pagan  dross, 

Now  at  the  temple  doors  we  pray 
Before  we  dare  behold  the  cross. 

O,  holy  silence  of  the  night  !  — 
The  hearts  of  weary  human  kind 

Go  seeking  blindly  unknown  light, 
And  break  because  they  cannot  nnd. 


know  not  even  whence  nor  "why, 
But  seek  to  veil  our  deep  heart-scars, 
And  lift  our  faces  to  the  sky,— 
Our  altar,  lit  with  countless  stars. 

The  mighty  cross  swings  high  above, 

The  organ  music  of  the  sea 
Rolls  vibrant  with  almighty  love 

Commanding  great  humility. 

We  pray,  although  we  hardly  dare 
To  cast  aside  our  cloak  of  fears, 

So  burdened  are  we  with  despare, 
And  deathly  drunk  with  tears. 


Out  in  the  Kills  with  the  sunset  over, 

And  under  a  wild-flower  slope  to  the  sea, — 

The  call  of  the  quail  from  the  wind-blown  clover, 
And  the  joy  of  the  soul  that  dares  be  free ! 

Light  wind,  white  wind,  fog-breath  and  sea-song. 
Wild,  sweet  music,  voice  of  Spring! 

Leave  me  alone  in  the  hills  all  the  day  long,—— 
Leave  me  alone  with  songs  to  sing. 

Let  me  forget  all  pain  and  passion, 

Let  me  forget  the  Now  and  Then. 
Let  me  go  back  in  childhood  fashion 

To  the  fairy  world  of  If  and  When. 

Verses  that  flow  like  running  water 

With  music  of  wind,  or  far  star's  song,  — 

Let  me  sing  and  forget  the  slaughter 

Of  fair  white  hopes  and  conquering  wrong. 

Back  to  the  primitive  joy  of  living. 

Beauty  born  in  the  wild  for  me, 
Love  that  lives  for  the  joy  of  giving, — 

This  is  the  singer's  destiny! 


Qeart  of  JJune 

Did  I  deny  the  prophesy  of  May 

When  even  little  birds  made  jubilee,— 
When,  shrouded  in  my  thoughts'  dark  tapistry, 

I  hid  a  heart-remembered  holiday? 

Yes,  but  the  stars  filled  all  night's  trouble-time 
With  laughter  breaking  down  dead  griefs  control. 
And  Spring  rain  beat  upon  my  doubting  soul 

A  rippling,  running  rapsody  of  rhyme. 

Dare  I  impose  my  grief  of  somber  hue 

Upon  a  world,  joy-mad  at  Spring's  decree? 
Dare  I  rebuke  the  singing,  saphire  sea. 

When  earth  and  sea  are  glad  with  love  of  you? 

For  in  your  eyes  is  all  the  leaping  dawn, 

And  in  your  smile,  the  sunset's  tenderness. 
And  in  your  hands,  a  longing  to  caress, 

Like  white  rose-petals  fluttering  toward  the  lawn. 

And  in  your  heart  great  joy,  imprisoned,  sings 
Of  greater  beauty,  coming  swiftly-soon, 
With  the  white  radience  of  the  fulfilled  moon 

Kissing  to  silence  all  youth's  questionings. 


of 

I  love  thee  best  when  early  in  the  dawn 

The  birds  sing  sweetest  and  all  life  in  new 
With  deep  Heart-promises  of  love  for  you, 

And  out  of  wells  of  silence  songs  are  drawn. 

I  love  thee  most  when  noon  flames  gloriously 
With  clear  white  fire  from  high  heaven  above, 
And  all  of  life  goes  leaping-glad  with  love, — 

Then  sure  and  strong  I  love  victoriously. 

I  love  thee  tenderest  when  sunset  goes 
Into  soft  shadowings,  and  waves  are  still. 
When  from  thy  tired  heart,  my  heart  to  nil 

Flows  out  love's  greatest  rapture  of  repose. 

I  love  thee  most  supremely  when  the  night 
Grants  all  of  beauty  freely  for  love's  sake. 
When  wonder-wide  thine  eyes  seem  half  awake, 

Half  dreaming  in  a  holy  calm  delight. 

I  love  thee  strongest  though  the  world  divide 
Our  little  human  ways  of  circumstance. 
Then  in  the  spirit,  free  from  time  and  chance 

I  love  thee  certainly,  and  side  by  side. 

These  ways  I  love  thee,  yet  more  dear  to  me 
Is  that  white,  holiest,  all-adoring  way 
When  scarce  I  dare  to  love  thee,  or  to  pray,— 

O,  that  I  might  be  crucified  for  thee ! 


O"  fte  ®ea=Gliffe 

Out  of  the  pulsing  Heart 

Of  sunset  sea  and  sky 
Alive,   aquiver,  strong, 

The  wind  of  love  conies  by. 

Out  of  tHe  depths  of  silence 

WHicH  Hold  all  Harmony 
Passes  tHis  migHty  music 
Between  tHe  sky  and  sea. 

My  Heart  is  a  little  leaf 

And   fain   would    it   Hold   tHe    tree 
Torn  by  tHe  storm  of  grief, — 
O,  God,  be  good  to  me ! 


gonbolet 

Smile,  if  you  care, 
But  if  not  do  not  gaze  into  my  soul! — 

Smile  if  you  care, 

But  do  not  take  me  all  so  unaware 
WitH  eyes  tHat  speak  a  gladness  past  control, 
Half  dream,  Half  tenderness, — of  life  tHe  wHole,- 

Smile  if  you  care, 


Qbbenture 

A  bubbling  splash  of  music  trickles  down 

The  night's  dark  wall  of  silence,  then  all's  still, 

Save  for  the  echo  of  a  sobbing  breath  drawn  by  the 

wind  in  passing,  and  the  far 
Shout  of  young  fancies  riding  the  new  moon 
Headlong  adown  the  night  into  the  sea. 

The  heart-pulse  of  the  night  drums  quick  and  faint 
Through  the  swift  quiet  breathings  of  all  things. 
A  great  event  goes  by  on  wide  dark  wings 
Beating  to  starward  and  eternity. 

Is  that  a  lost  soul  drifting  where  the  white 
Of  lotus  flowers  shimmers  through  the  gloom? 
Or  is  it  but  a  dead  dream  on  its  way 
To  haunt  the  flower  that  careless  gave  it  birth? 

A  shooting  star  charges  the  sky's  abyss,— 
My  hands  are  in  its  firy  tangled  mane. 
And  swift  astride  its  splendor  do  I  vault 
And  ride  exultant  down  eternity! 


I  have  taken  the  wingfs  of  the  morning, — 
I  have  fled  over  eons  of  sea. 
The  ends  of  the  earth 
And  death  and  birth 
Are  one  with  the  soul  of  me. 
I  have  bathed  in  the  hue 
Of  flaming  blue 

Where  the  sky  and  sea  are  no  longer  two, — 
Where  a  great  gold  star 
Kissed  a  flaming  scar 
Into  my  hand  that  held  it  far, 
And  the  pain  was  what  love  and  hatred  are 
Yet  beyond  was  the  goal  for  me. 

For  the  flame  that  sings  in  the  hearts  of  things 
Burns  warm  in  me  as  it  burns  in  kings, 
Or  in  mystic  priests 
With  their  sacred  feasts, 
And  incense  offerings. 
The  heart  of  a  rose 
More  sacred  grows 

As  a  man  his  own  heart  deeper  knows, 
And  the  flame  in  each  more  brightly  glows 
If  the  man  has  found  it  fair: 
Thus  the  mad  white  nre 
Of  high  desire 
Is  only  the  reach  for  something  higher, — 


To  be  a  god,  ano!  dare ! — 
The  hope  to  grope 
Past  man's  blind  scope 

Like  the  lotus  growth  from  sand  and  mire 
Through  liquid  up  to  air. 
Thus  the  blinded  quest 
For  heaven's  best 
Is  a  game 
Of  shame 

And   an   empty  jest, 
If  wine  can  lead  me  there! 

Yes,  wine,  wine,  wine ! — Is  it  not  divine, 
This  burning  kiss  on  these  lips  of  mine? 
Why  seek  escape 
From  this  bare  girl-shape 
Pouring  the  blood  of  the  sacred  grape 
From  a  chalise  wreathed  with  the  sacred  vine 
Torn  from  her  tangled  hair  ? 

NO,  let  me  drink  at  her  chalise-brink 
The  wine  of  beauty,  nor  pause  to  think 

Nor  doubt,  nor  question  why: 
For  wine  is  the  fire  of  destiny 

Which  flashes  through  me,   and  makes  me   free  !- 
I  go  to  drown  in  the  wine-dark  sea 
Under  the  wine-bright  sky ! 


fifoe 

I  Hear  adown  the  dim  sea-caves 
The  night-wind's  singing  quest, — 

The  teasing  tenderness  of  waves 
Athirst  to  kiss  my  breast. 

Dearest,  the  night  flames  gold  agata. 

And  all  my  life  demands 
To  feel  against  my  heart's  dumb  pain 

The  comfort  of  your  hands. 

The  witchery  of  fog-wind  fails 

To  heal  the  sunset-scars, — 
The  moon  has  spun  white  fire-veils 

To  hide  the  mating  stars. 

(O,  God  of  all  weak  human  things, 

O,  God  of  earth  and  sky, 
Grant  us  thy  keenest  sufferings, — 

We  ride,  my  love  and  I !) 

Soft  o'er  the  little  flowers 

Like  stars  in  a  sea  of  grass, — 
Close  by  the  grim  sea-towers 

Our  steeds1  swift  shadows  pass. 

Out  from  the  shore  with  measured  croon 
Rock  the  waves  in  the  arms  of  the  moon, 

Where  the  writhing  seaweed  curls  its  fingers 
'Round  the  reefs  of  the  dark  lagoon. 


Back  through  a  canyon  from  the  sea 
Winds  the  road  for  my  love  and  me, 
Until  it  rises,  topping  the  sea-cliff, 
Pointing  the  way  so  far  and  free, 

Where  the  road  runs  white 
Through  the  shimmering  night,—— 

(O,  God,  hast  thou  heard  my  prayer? 
For  the  wind  leaps  forth 
From  the  star-hung  north 

And  to  ride,  to  ride  we  dare ! 
And  we  lean  to  the  rush  of  its  passing 

Like  swift  white  hands  in  our  hair.) 

And  a  panic  of  fright 
That  is  half  nerce  delight 

Sends  my  steed 

Terror  freed 

Through  the  shadow  and  light, 
And  the  beat  of  his  feet 
Down  the  road's  long  retreat 

Marks  a  song 

That  is  long 

And  is  strong 

And  is  sweet 

As  the  \vind  in  its  singing  flight. 
(If  the  road  leads  out  to  Eternity, 
And  swift  Death  waits  for  my  love  and  me, 
O,  God,  have  I  prayed  aright?) 


Question 

Light,  and  the  song  of  birds : 
Gold-radiance,  rose-glory  from  the  sky, 
And  in  the  skadow  of  the  Kills,  the  sea. 
All  purple  peacefulness  beneath  the  dawn. 
And  in  my  heart  the  question  ever  new, 
And  old  as  all  the  world's  great  heart  of  pain, — 
'When  comes  the  nobler  faith  and  clearer  sight? 
When  comes  the  vision  of  a  world  set  free?" — 
A  cry  for  that  completeness  which  shall  come, 
But  come  alone  through  suffering  infinite 
When  in  the  time  fortold  in  prophet  lore 
The  great  gold  sun  shall  strike  along  the  sky 
Piercing  the  mystery  of  early  dawn, — 
Blazing  a  pathway  to  the  perfect  day. 


gjntftoer 

Sunset,  bird's  vesper  song. 

And  coming  twilight,  whispering  of  peace. 

After  the  long,  white  glory  of  the  day. 

All  gold  and  purple  is  the  westward  sea 

Striding  to  landward  with  his  arms  flung  wide, — 

A  kingly  lover,  coming  royally, 

To  claim  his  own  with  valiant,  God-like  strength. 

\Veary  and  world-worn  at  this  twilight  hour 

After  the  breathless  turmoil  of  the  day 

Lived  all  too  swiftly  in  a  world  where  haste 

Treads  fiercely  on  the  flying  heels  of  gain, 

I  come  at  last  to  -where  the  western  land 

Welcomes  the  passion  of  the  night-time  sea. 

Here  is  fulfillment,  and  the  question  asked 

When  dawn  first  hung  the  heights  with  woven  flame* 

When  noon  walked  fiercely  through  the  ranks  of  men 

Inciting  them  to  sterner  selfish  haste,-— 

When  in  the  silence  of  a  student's  cell 

Great  fears  rose  up  to  mock  at  man's  distress, — 

Has  found  its  answer  after  toil  and  pain. 

After  things  tragic, — comic,  have  passed  by 

Into  the  blessed  silence  of  the  past, 

Now  at  this  hour  when  time  itself  draws  breath 

I  find  my  question  answered  to  the  full. 

And  if  this  may  be  doubted  by  some  soul 

World-weary  and  heart-shattered  in  the  fight 

I  bid  him  live  one  day  for  love  alone, 

And,  after  that  is  done,  to  humbly  stand. 

And  hear  the  twilight  message  of  the  sea. 


'*  ©nbing 

A  dear,  glad  dream  lias  passed  and  left  me  tired 

As  one  unto  whom  sleep  has  brought  no  rest, 

And  yet  has  given  much  of  thought  for  after-whiles. 

The  dream  it  was  which  led  my  feet  afield 

To  wander  in  a  land  not  quite  unknown 

But  richer  far  than  in  the  olden  days 

Wnen  flower-crowned  and  heedless  first  I  passed 

Wing-footed  through  its  vales  and  o'er  its  hills. 

And  now,  as  one  who  looking  backward,  sees 

A  dear  friend's  smile,  and  smiles  a  sad  farewell, 

I  gaze  across  the  dream's  swift  shadow-play. 

I  see  again  the  dear,  glad,  golden  hours 

Wrought  beautiful  with  very  precious  things: 

I  see  again  the  glowing  blues  and  golds 

And  clear,  white-lights  of  high  noons,  hours  of  prayer: 

I  see  the  long  rose-shadowed  twilight  hours 

And  those  that  sparkle  with  the  fresh-sprung  day: 

Each  and  all  sanctified  by  that  strange  power 

Too  strong,  too  beautiful  to  be  denied, — 

Granted  a  full  dominion  in  my  soul 

To  crush  or  crown  me  as  the  dream  decreed. 

Now  has  this  radient,  joyous,  tear-washed  dream 

Left  me  alone  as  at  the  first  but  changed, — 

Perhaps  a  little  weaker  from  defeat, 

Perhaps  a  little  stronger  to  face  life, 

Yet  very  sure  with  knowledge  of  my  soul. 

So  once  again  I  turn  to  face  the  vast 

Far-stretching  future, — is  it  far  away, 

That  shadowed  resting-place,  that  men  call  Death? 


C5o  CD.  H.  a 

The  depths  of  space  beneath  me  lie. 

I  smile  to  see  man's  little  strife, 
On  wings  of  steady  thought  I  fly. 

And  name  Eternity  my  life. 
I  learn  to  choose  immortal  good 

From  weary,  human  lack  of  sight, 
I  feed  upon  celestial  food, 

I  carry  in  my  being  light. 
I  choose  with  certain  care  my  course 

And  guide  my  path  through  star-dust  trails. 
I  claim  the  mastery  of  force. 

Knowing  that  only  weakness  fails. 


jgtonnet 

The  plaintive  pipings  of  a  moon-mad  Pan 

Whispered  a  question  answered  by  the  sea 

In  its  unbroken  chant  of  mystery. 
While  mermaids  sang  as  only  mermaids  can. 
The  beach-brush  whispered  when  a  satyr  ran 

From  shade  to  shadow  in  his  impish  glee 

To  see  the  dryads  dance  in  ecstacy. 
And  nowhere  was  there  thought  or  fear  of  man. 

I  would  that  I  had  lived  a  light-foot  faun 

To  dance  in  moon-shine  where  the  sea  waves  roar; 

To  know  the  triumph  of  the  savage  dawn, 
And  all  great  wildnesses  that  are  no  more. 

To  try  my  young  strength  e'er  the  will  is  gone. 
And  love  as  did  those  wild,  free  things  of  yore ! 


tfje 


O,  Phantom  City  of  my  Dreams, 
High   consecrate   within   the   fog, 
The  sweat  from  every  wheel  and  cog 

Within   thy   heart   great   treasure    seems. 

O,  Holy  city  rich  beyond 

All  count  of  wealth  in  pain  and  tears, 

The  agony  of  heedless  years 
Is  in  our  souls  a  mighty  bond. 

I  pray,  e'er  my  last  steps  are  trod 
To  see,  behind  the  mist,  the  End, 
To  dare  to  call  my  brother  Friend, 

And  so  draw  nearer  unto  God. 

The  spirit  of  redemption's  peace 

Broods  in  the  mists  of  early  morn,  — 
A  deeper  peace  shall  yet  be  born 

When  men  shall  love  and  war  shall  cease. 

Then  moving  force  that  guides  the  spheres, 
Accept  our  war-born,  world-wide  creed, 
And  e'er  our  hearts  have  ceased  to  bleed 

Grant  us  the  tenderness  of  tears. 

Let  us  acknowledge  fair  defeat 
With  socialistic  hand  in  hand,  — 
The  nation's  heart  must  understand 

Or  else  for  ever  cease  to  beat  ! 


Heart  in  hand  I  came  to  you 

With  a  little,  whispered  prayer 

How  could  I  give  blame  to  you, 
If  you  did  not  nnd  it  fair? 

Kindly  then  at  me  you  smiled. 
And  your  kindness,  like  a  flame 

Burnt  me,  made  me  bitter,  wild, — 
Yet  I  cannot  give  you  blame ! 

Gently  then  to  me  you  spoke, 

And  your  words  were  light  and  gay, 

But  my  heart  in  pieces  broke, 
And  I  turned,  and  went  away. 


Qlborabo 

I  will  run  high  into  the  hills, 
And  laugh  up  toward  the  sun; 

I  will  drop  down  and  kiss  the  sod 
And  worship  tenderly  my  God 
\Vith   passion-battles  won. — 
I  will  grow  pure  as  mountain  rills, 
Washed  fiercely  where  the  fountain  chills, 
And  when  these  things  are  done 
Blue  valley  bound,  in  ecstacy 
Of  love  reborn,  I'll  come  to  thee ! 


Qtglrt 

Listen  to  the  moonlight 

Dripping  slow  and  sweet 
From  the  flower  faces 

Pressed  by  fairy  feet. 

Hear  the  trickling  ripple 

Of  the  dripping,  moon-drenched  dew. 
Where   little   goblins   tipple 

And  carouse  the  white  night  through. 

Taste  the  leaden  wine-scent 

Of  perfume  on  the  tongue, 
By  fairies  weak  and  wine-spent 

Out  of  poppies  wrung. 

Watch  the  whirling,  swirling 
Wreaths  of  wind-wound  spray 

O'er  the  fountain  curling 

Round   fountain-folk   at  play. 


Hear  the  moon-moth  muttering 

Magic  to  himself, 
All  despite  his  fluttering 

Ridden  by  an  elf. 

Hear  the  mocking  music. 

Faint  and  very  far, 
Of  many  wee,  wise  minstrels 

Piping  to  a  star. 

Feel  the  fairy  fingers 

Fluttering  o'er  one's  face, — 
Banish  care  that  lingers, 

Join  the  moon-mad  race. 

Drop  weak,  world-wise  wonder, 
Close  wan,  weary  eyes, 

Burst  old   bonds   asunder, — 
Wake  to  Otherwise ! 


of 

(To  A.  W.  T.) 

If  I  dip  the  cup  of  my  heart  into  the  sunset 

V/ill  it  t>nm  over  with  the  beauty  of  fulfillment? 

If  I  forget  that  I  have  thirsted  long,  will  I  cease  to 

desire  water? 

If  I  worship  only  the  iron  cross  of  my  heart 
Will  I  dishonor  the  spirit  cross  of  my  soul? 
O,  I   am  drinking  deep  of  the  life-giving  fountain  of 

tears, — 

Nay,  but  I  love  the  bitter  waters, 
And  my  soul  is  strong,  because  I  am  not  afraid ! 

The  tears  of  the  spirit-eyes  are  sacred. 
Through  them  one  sees  more  clearly 
Than  when  one's  eyes  are  radient  with  sunrise. 
It  is  only  the  coward  who  is  afraid  to  weep, — 
Only  the  great  ones  who  love  and  are  crucified! 

Walk  softly  through  the  shadows,  O,  my  heart ! 
They  are  beautiful  and  therefore  to  be  worshiped. 
Be  not  fearful  of  the   dark,  O,  little   soul, 
But  be  steadfast  in  thy  singing, 
Else  thou  canst  not  hope  to  be 
Worthy  of  the  gift  of  crucifixion. 


Dost  thou  {ear  the  sacrifice,  O,  Heart-of-Flame? 
WKat  is  life  but  giving  and  receiving? 
Then,  if  we  give  nothing,  how  can  we  receive? 
Or  if  we  are  faithless,  how  can  we  be  trusted? 

Dare  to  spread  thy  wings  in  the  twilight 
And  seek  the  heights  of  thy  song! 

All  the  world  is  in  my  heart, — may  my   hands  learn 

kindness. 

And  my  soul  serenity  from  the  torture  of  repression! 
There  is  nothing  that  I  would  not  strive  to  do 
If  I  could  but  realize  the  glory  of  the  conquered ! 

I  long  distantly  in  the  dawning 

For  the  singing  fountains  in  the  high  hills, 

Be  hilarious  to  answer,  O,  my  heart. 

And  be  swift  to  follow,  O,  my  feet ! 

Be  strong  to  give  assistance,  O,  my  hands. 

And  be  glad  with  kindness  in  thy  serving,-— 

Give  of  thy  strength  abundently,  O,  soul. 

For  conquest  is  in  living  brave,  and  loving! 


Hrance 

O  France,  dear  France,  hold  up  thy  head 

And    look    with    tender    pride 
Upon  thy  sleeping  mighty  dead 

Entombed  on  every  side, 
And  on  the  earth  so  richly  read 

Beneath  thy  victor-stride ! 

O  France,  dear  France,  cathedral  bells 

Have  rung  the  call  to  prayer. 
For  thy  dear  sons  the  anthem  swells 

Triumphant  on  the  air.- — 
O  God  of  France,  how  beautiful 

To  see  them  lying  there ! 

O  France,  dear  France,  'twas  thine  to  yield 

Thy  flesh  to  thus  be  torn, 
And  with  thy  body  thus  to  shield 

Thy  children  newly  born. 
Thou  by  thy  suffering  hast  revealed 

Their  resurrection  morn ! 

O  France,  sad  Mourning-Mother  France, 

Behold  the  pride  of  kings 
Is  fallen  'neath  the  foe's  advance, 

And  these,  our  offerings, 
Have  justified  the  thorns,  the  lance, 

The  cross,  Christ's  sufferings ! 


O  France,  dear  sister,  fighting  France, 

Our  lads  across  the  sea 
Have  dared  the  vagaries  of  chance 

To  nght  and  die  for  thee: 
O  look  not  with  a  haughty  glance 

On  Christ's  fraternity! 

And  France,  beloved  France  of  fame, 

Made  splendid  past  desire. 
So  beautiful  in  all  thy  name 

Of  sacrificial  nre  ! — 
O  France,  revenge  thy  women's  shame,- 

Thy  children  in  the  mire ! 

And  when,  O  France,  the  bugles  blow 

The  peal  of  victory. 
When  through  thy  bleeding  arteries  flow 

New  life  that  is  to  be, — 
O  France,  remember  even  so, 

We  gave  our  lives  for  thee ! 


>      3    J  ) 

,    '      >      >        >       >  ,      '    , 

,  .>  : 


I       ,       0   i 


1   •/-., 


i   r^r 

I  UO 


415008 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


